


Drunken "Dates"

by nazgularepeopletoo, No_Day_But_Today



Series: Single Parent AUs [11]
Category: Jesus Christ Superstar - All Media Types, Jesus Christ Superstar Live
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, I wrote this after crying over Ben Daniels, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, heavy au usage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 03:24:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14844749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nazgularepeopletoo/pseuds/nazgularepeopletoo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/No_Day_But_Today/pseuds/No_Day_But_Today
Summary: "Hey we hooked up last night and it turns out you're my kids teacher."~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~“How did you get to school?” He decided to try and change the line of questioning. “And why are you back so early it’s only two.”“Dad, it’s almost two thirty. We got out early cause of assembly. Oh, and, about getting to school… My teacher drove me.” PIlate blinked.





	Drunken "Dates"

Waking up with a hangover on a school day was never really an ideal situation to be in. Pilate groaned, attempting to sit up  _ without _ dying. Unsuccessfully. Drinking on a Sunday night was a bad idea - he silently swore that he would never do that again. What did he even do last night? No one was in bed with him, which was a good sign. Probably. But someone  _ had _ been in bed with him, he could tell. What time was it? He glanced over at the clock. 2:00. AM? No that was…  _ Oh Fuck _ .

He scrambled out of bed, cursing loudly and nearly tripping on his shoe. It was Monday, it was 2 pm, and… and fuck.Caesar was late for school. Well, at this point, school was almost over. There was only an hour left and was it even worth trying to get him there by like, 2:30? It wasn’t. After making sure he was clothed properly, or at least decently, he stumbled into Caesar’s room. 

It was empty. He went further into the room, resting a hand on the now-cold pillow. Where was… He’d probably gotten a ride to school from a friend or something.

“Dad..?” Pilate spun around, wincing and immediately regretting it. “What are you doing in my room?” He flushed a little, swallowing. 

“How did you get to school?” He decided to try and change the line of questioning. “And why are you back so early it’s only two.” 

“Dad, it’s almost two thirty. We got out early cause of assembly. Oh, and, about getting to school… My teacher drove me.” PIlate blinked. 

“Your.. teacher? How..? How did he know where we live?” Caesar shuddered, digging into his pocket for a crumpled up piece of paper. 

“About that. He told me to give you this. And to call him as soon as you can. He said you have his number already?” He coughed, though it sounded more like a gag, and shoved the paper into Pilate’s hand. “Anyway, I’m going to Simon’s house. See you later.” And with that, Caesar was gone. 

A sense of dread washed over him. This could not be good. He sat on the bed and uncrumpled the note, wishing more than anything he had taken aspirin before doing anything else. The handwriting was neat and tidy, a little curved and very legible. 

Pontius, 

We really need to get together and talk about

what happened last night. And what happened 

this morning. I’m not sure how much you 

remember, but we need to figure it all out.

~ Jesus

What had happened last night? What  _ had _ happened last night? Had he… slept with his son’s teacher? Oh God, he had, hadn’t he. He’d gotten drunk and somehow ended up in bed with his son’s teacher and then overslept because of how wasted he had been and his son had to go to school  _ with his teacher _ and he would have to deal with all of this. Caesar had said something about a number. 

Flipping open his phone, he scrolled through his contacts until he came across “Our Lord and Saviour”. Oh  _ Jesus _ . Well.. yeah. It was Jesus. The guy’s name was Jesus. Like actually Jesus. And he, Pontius Pilate, had fucked him. This was all sorts of messed up. He could never show his face again in church on Easter, for one thing. Not that he ever did that in the first place, but, ya know. 

Before he could totally chicken out and delete the contact, he sent off a quick text asking when Jesus would be available to meet. It only took fifteen minutes for his phone to ring softly with a reply. That was just enough time for him to half fall asleep on Caesar’s bed, but he jolted back awake at the tone. It was a short message, suggesting coffee in about an hour. He sent back an okay, then went to take a shower. 

 

An hour later found him dressed semi-nicely and hesitating outside of the coffee shop. He was meeting his son’s-teacher-turned-lover that he had done god knows what last night with. Taking one more deep breath, he pushed through the door. 

It was a quiet little shop, and there weren’t many people inside. It didn’t take long for him to pinpoint Jesus, and he moved over silently, taking a seat across from the man. They were both quiet for a moment before Jesus cleared his throat. 

“So. About last night.” Before he could get any further, Pilate interrupted.

“I want to apologise for anything I did last night. What, um,  _ exactly _ did I do last night…?” Jesus nodded, sighing. 

“That's what I thought. What's the last thing you remember? When I got to the bar you were already drinking.”

“I remember losing a high profile case and going to a bar to wash away my sorrows and probable unemployment. That's it. Then I woke up this afternoon.”

“Well. That is how I found you.” Pilate blushed. 

“Please just tell me what happened…” 

 

~~~~~~~~

 

The bar was dark and hazy, but Pilate could not care less. He was there for one reason and one reason only; to get absolutely shit-faced. His partner had told him that everyone loses sometimes, but all of his evidence had been thrown out on a  _ technicality  _ and these losses had been happening more and more frequently. So forgive him for wanting to forget. 

He was on his fifth shot when someone finally sat down next to him. He didn’t move or acknowledge them, but they didn’t seem to mind. Until they started trying to talk to him. He ignored them at first, until they said his name. Shit, he really didn’t want to deal with press or.. Literally anyone right now. 

“What could you possibly want right now?” He turned to look at the man sitting next to him. He looked vaguely familiar but he couldn’t quite place where he’d seen him. 

“I said, ‘you’re Salad Dressing’s father, aren’t you’?” Pilate blinked.

“Excuse me?” He had absolutely no idea what the man was talking about. 

“Your son. His name is Caesar, right? He’s in my class. The kids at school call him Salad Dressing.” Pilate burst out laughing, nearly spilling his drink all over the bar.

“Salad Dressing? I g… I guess that’s my fault for naming him Caesar. Well his mother did. For some goddamn reason. Said something about… Biblical… something.” The man chuckled, waving the bartender over to order a drink. Pilate managed to get another drink as well, despite the fact that he was already drunk. 

“I’ve only seen you a few times, but you two look similar. Is everything alright?”

“Check the newspapers in the morning, you’ll get your answer.” The man winced, taking a drink.

“I’m sorry,” he said, putting a hand on Pilate’s shoulder. “That’s gotta suck.” 

“You think?” He tried to drink, but his glass was empty. When he tried to order yet another one, the other man shook his head, motioning the bartender away. Pilate frowned, attempting to glare at him, but only managing to pout. 

“My name’s Jesus, if you wanted to know. I kinda match your families theme.” 

“WHAT?” The bar around them got quiet and the man, Jesus, blushed lightly. “Your name is  _ actually Jesus _ ?” Jesus hid his face in his hands, groaning quietly.

“Maybe this was a bad idea…” 

“No!” Pilate grabbed his arm, suddenly seeming much sober. “No, please, wait. I’m sorry I’m sorry.”

“Alright, alright. You seem to be in a bad spot. No more drinks for you, though, alright?” Pilate just nodded, sighing quietly.

“Fine.” 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“And we drank, and you took me home. And. Well.” Jesus shrugged, eyeing Pilate warrily for his reaction to the story. Pilate had his head on his arms, crossed on the table. That was… worse than he had wanted it to be but not as bad as he was expecting. 

“I am… so sorry.” He lifted his head, finally making eye contact. Jesus didn’t look like he wanted to never see him again, so maybe that was a good thing. 

“It’s alright. Really. I actually… wouldn’t be opposed to meeting up again sometime. Preferably  _ not _ on a school night.” Pilet just stared at him for a moment.

“I…. I would like that…” He could feel himself turning bright red. 

“Good.” Jesus smiled. “Now, tell me more about yourself. I didn’t get much outta you last night.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have so many more ideas for this universe and I'm so mad at myself someone please stop me ~ nazgularepeopletoo


End file.
